I might have dreamt you up
by PartyInTheNorth
Summary: 7 drabbles for 7 days. Featuring lots of cuteness and Robbcella kisses.
1. Chapter 1

**Day One: Forbidden Fruit**

If there was one rule between Myrcella and Sansa, it was that you don't date best friends' brothers.

Obviously Tommen and Bran and Rickon were no threat, but when Sansa had Robb and Jon, both just off to university, both strong and ripped and handsome rugby players, it was sometimes difficult.

But now Sansa had broken the rule: against all Myrcella's vehement advice, she had hooked up with Joff, who liked to place bets on how long a girl would put up with him whilst he got increasingly ruder and ruder to her- and sometimes more violent.

But Cella wasn't going to criticise now; Sansa had made her choices and she could be the one to initiate that discussion.

So when she arrived at the Stark household, and Robb answered the door…

Perhaps something had changed. Rule-wise.

'Oh, hey Myrcella!' He said cheerfully, running a hand back through his dusky red hair. It bounced lusciously and landed back on his forehead.

'Hey, Robb,' Cella replied, 'Back from uni?'

'Yeah, just for the weekend-' he answered, '-it's my mum's birthday. Anyway, come on in.'

He ushered her inside and they went into the kitchen, where Cella automatically got herself a glass of water. 'I'm parched,' she said, hopping up onto a barstool.

Robb smirked. 'I'd say make yourself at home, but it's clear you already have.'

'Oh come on Robb,' she laughed, 'I'm practically family.'

Robb frowned. 'Not quite.'

There was a strange silence as Myrcella thought over his peculiar answer.

What did he mean? Then it struck her. He didn't see her as a sister.

She swallowed harshly. 'Is Sansa about?'

'No, 'fraid not,' he said, turning to the fridge before Cella could see his red cheeks.

'Oh,' Cella said, awkwardly. 'I guess I should go home then.'

'No!' Robb said too quickly, 'I've not got anything to do, so…'

Cella smiled. 'Thanks, Robb.'

He smiled back at her sheepishly.

'So, how's Jeyne?' Cella asked, referring to his medicine student girlfriend, beautiful and smart and kind. She'd met her once and been sick with jealousy.

'Jeyne? Oh, we split up.'

'Oh, sorry.'

'No, don't be, she was a Liverpool supporter,' he joked. Then he went quiet.

'What team do you support?'

'I'm not really into football,' she said, eyeing up his biceps, 'I prefer rugby.'

'Oh,' he said, eyes hot as they met hers.

Off-limits! Her conscience hissed.

'I should probably-' Cella said, standing to go, but Robb leapt to his feet and kissed her hotly on the lips.

It was long and luscious, and Cella felt- somewhere in the back of her mind- embarrassed of her inexperienced, messy kisses under his expert lips. But mostly she felt hot, deliriously hot, and the heat went straight to the pit of her stomach.

Finally he released her.

'Don't tell Sansa,' she smiled, and leant up to kiss him again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Day Two: Masquerade**

It was six-four to Margaery, but Cella wasn't done yet. She sidled away from Margaery, who was currently locking lips with a boy Cella recognised from school. Their game was simple: make out with as many guys as possible. Whoever got the most had to buy the other a hangover cure Macdonald's the next morning.

Cella scanned the party, her eyes eventually settling on a solitary, lean and muscular figure leaning against the kitchen counter swishing his beer around in its bottle. Cella pulled on her mask (it was a masked party after all), and sashayed towards him. He had dark auburn curls and was wearing a black mask that covered most of his face, detailed in gold, and was wearing a black shirt that fit like clay to his sculpted chest and abs.

She danced a little way in front of him, moving round in a circle until finally settling her eyes on the target and curling her finger at him to encourage him to dance with her. The guy looked around as if she might mean someone else, but on both sides of him were couples making out. He swigged his beer and moved over to dance with her.

After two songs, she moved closer to take his hand, and pulled him away to a corner, where she leant up to kiss him.

Five.

She could have just moved on and equalised, but something about this guy was really gluing her to him, making her press her body to his and tangle her fingers in his red hair. His hands ran over her back, pressing in all the right places and holding her close to him.

After a minute, she gave up the game, deciding one Macdonald's for Magaery wouldn't hurt her, and she pulled back, taking her mask off.

The guy had the same idea, but when they looked at each other they froze.

'Robb Stark,' she said tightly.

'Myrcella Baratheon,' he returned.

She could be brave here and face up to the fact that she had just made out with her friend's brother, and tell him that he had enjoyed it, even. But she didn't.

'Thanks,' she squeaked, and ran to grab Margaery's arm and pull her out of the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Day Three: Fairytale**

A whistle rang through the clear night air, and she came to her window, widening the shutters and whistling back.

She leant over the windowsill and started to reel in her hair into a thick loop of plait. When she finally spotted him, a flash of red amongst the thicket, she heaved her hair over the edge and watched it tumble to the floor, gold on dark green. She moved to sit on the floor, bracing herself for the moment- ooh, there it was- when he would give a little tug before scaling her hair; shinning his way up the wall.

At the top, he had hardly made it into the room when he swept her up into his arms, cradling her like a new bride, and pressed his lips to hers.

Cella laughed, nuzzling her head into his neck for a minute before he put her down and they began to heave up her hair.

Once it was all neatly tied up, they sat side by side, her head on his chest and their legs tangled together; talking about their hopes and dreams.

Until suddenly the cat leapt up and mewed. They looked at each other, Robb confused but Cella genuinely frightened.

'Cersei.' She whispered. 'The cat always knows when she's coming.'

'I'll climb down,' he said, getting awkwardly to his feet.

'No, there isn't time,' she responded, 'Get in the cupboard.'

She bundled him in, as Robb tried to say something else and she shushed him, quickly kissing him before shutting the door on him.

And just in time, as Cersei's heels clicked on the last few steps and she creaked open the door.

'Talking to the cat again?' She said sarcastically, gliding her clawed fingers over the cat's smooth fur.

Myrcella stayed silent, her heart pounding.

Cersei wandered around the room, picking things up at random. 'How have you been wasting your time recently?'

'Reading,' she said tersely.

'Done much sewing?' Cersei said, nearing the wardrobe, her fingers hovering on the knob.

'Yes, it's here!' Cella distracted her, grabbing the dress she was working on and shoving it into the witch's hands.

A brief inspection and a long criticism seemed to placate her, though, and once she was finished; she finally left.

Cella opened the closet and sprang into Robb's arms, saying, again and again, 'Take me with you, take me with you.'

So they chopped off her hair and both climbed down from the tower, and now- who knows?- I heard they live in a castle far away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Day Four: AU **

_In which Myrcella is older than Robb._

Robb thought he had never in his life seen anyone as beautiful and terrifying as Queen Cersei: that was until her daughter stepped forward.

She was a couple of years older than him, and so, embarrassingly, a couple of inches taller than him, with a long, straight back and hair like spun gold that was almost white where it fell in ringlets onto her pale cheeks.

King Robert stepped forward to ruffle his hair. 'My, how you've grown, Robb,' he said, and then, with a booming laugh, 'I shall have to keep my daughter away from you.'

Robb blushed beet red, and Myrcella smiles sassily, with the cool humour of her mother.

He knew he had to retort: his father never would, but this was a matter of pride for Robb.

He held his arm out to Myrcella, and put on a face that he thought was worthy of Lord Renly in its style. 'Allow me to show you in, my lady?'

And to his surprise, her smile turned sheepish, and her cheeks turned rosy.

'Yes, please,' she said sweetly, and tucked her slender fingers through the crook of his elbow.

Their parents laughed a little, but as he led her inside, she leant in and whispered in his ear, 'Thank you.'

'It's a pleasure, my lady,' he assured her, aware that he was grinning like a maniac but unable to stop.

'It's just…' she murmured, 'The others are all too scared to talk to me, so… thank you.'

Robb paused: they had fallen to the back of the party, so when he stopped she turned to him. Robb saw his moment, and pushed up onto his toes to kiss her cheek.


	5. Chapter 5

**Day Five: Storm**

A crack of thunder awoke Cella, and her eyes shot open. She rolled over on the campbed to see if Sansa was awake, and a flash of white lightning lit up her friend's sleeping face, as if to help her see.

Cella had always been scared of storms. Ever since she was little, she had always crawled into her parents' bed when the sky cracked and shattered like a sheet of glass. Her mother, who could probably create storms with just her glares, would shove her away, but her father would always get her a glass of water and sit with her until she calmed down.

She could feel herself panicking now, her breath speeding up until she felt light-headed, and she thought about waking Sansa but Margaery was there too, and she just knew they would judge her, and tease her, and she could never live down being scared of a thunderstorm at 17.

Trying to slow her breathing, she clambered to her feet and headed downstairs for a glass of water. She had just taken a sip when she heard the turn of a page and a voice (a male voice) say, 'The storm keeping you up?'

She span around to the French windows, where a long figure was reclining on the low leather sofa. He looked up. She nodded.

'I can't sleep either,' Robb said. She had met Sansa's older brother before, but had no idea he was home from uni, and had never really spoken to him when

Sansa wasn't there, winding him up. 'Come here, Cella.'

She wasn't sure which was more surprising: his invitation or the fact that he remembered her name.

So she went over to him, clutching her glass of water and trying not to think about how messed up she surely looked. She, Sansa and Margaery had had a girly night in watching movies and playing drinking games, and although Cella hadn't drunk as much as the others, she was still starting to feel a hangover coming on. A quick glance at the oven clock told her it was 4:30 am.

Robb swung his feet onto the floor and patted the sofa next to him, and she sat down, keeping a sizeable gap between herself and her friend's hot older brother.

From here, there was a great view. The low wash of the reading lamp made his hair a gorgeous coppery colour and his face, still looking down at his book, was in an expression of placid contentment. From this angle she could see the elegant curve of his nose and the slight marks of former bad skin on his high cheeks. It was nice to know even Starks were human.

He closed his book and turned to her, just catching her eye before she had time to turn away. She blushed furiously and prayed it was too dark to tell.

'So,' she said uncomfortably, 'I didn't know you were home from uni.'

Robb sighed sadly, and Cella couldn't help herself meeting his eyes, concern in her own.

'They're keeping it all hush hush,' he said, 'Can't say I blame them.'

Not wanting to pry, but intrigued nonetheless, Cella said, 'What happened?'

Robb shook his head. 'Maybe another time. Why are you so scared of storms then?'

'I don't know… I think…' Cella yawned widely, and Robb shuffled closer, wrapping his arm around her casually, like she was just another one of his sisters. 'When I was little I thought it sounded like the sky was breaking.'

'I can see why you'd think that,' Robb replied, as she lowered her head onto his shoulder. She wasn't sure why she felt so comfortable with him: perhaps it was because she was tired, or still a bit drunk, or maybe because he was her best friend's brother, so by extension her brother.

'But my brother, Joff, would always laugh at me when I couldn't sleep,' she murmured, feeling herself doze off.

'You deserve so much better.' She heard Robb breathe into her hair just before she fell asleep.

She woke, startled, as the sky began to lighten. She was curled up against Robb's shoulder, his arm lying limply across her back, his head lolled onto hers. She quietly extricated herself, and with a last look at his placid, yet still troubled even in his sleep, face; she crept back to her lonely, cold camp bed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Day Six: Ceremony **

As Bohemian Rhapsody finished, Cella threw herself down onto a white-draped chair in the corner.

She bent down to undo her shoes, regretting ever putting on the sodding four-inch monsters in the first place. But her bridesmaid's dress had turned out to be too long at the last minute so she had to wear the heels to avoid tripping up as she followed Roslin up the aisle.

'Having a good evening?'

Cella hurriedly sat up, to see Robb Stark sitting in that effortlessly laid-back way he always did, looking fresh out of a tie catalogue in his three-piece suit.

'Fabulous,' she said, looking over at the dancefloor where Roslin and Edmure were still slow-dancing, and smiling softly, 'Aren't they sweet?'

'As sweet as your school-friend and your uncle can be,' Robb said, looking uncomfortable. Cella lifted her feet onto his lap.

'Ouch, what have you been wearing, instruments of medieval torture?' He said, inspecting her bruised feet.

'Close enough,' she answered, picking her left shoe up by the ankle strap and dangling it at him. He took it from her, and fiddled with it. She looked back at the happy couple: Edmure was spinning one of the tiny Freys around whilst Roslin laughed and clapped, her eyes heavy with love. 'It's not that big an age gap.'

'Ten years? It kind of is,' he said uncomfortably, spinning her shoe around his finger.

'Not when they love each other so much,' she purred. 'Besides, there's, what? Six, seven years between us, right-' Robb went red, and she leant forward to rustle his hair, '-And we're the best of pals.'

She was teasing, Robb knew- he had known Cella most of his life and was used to her jokey attitude- but it didn't stop the butterflies in the pit of his stomach.

'You know what,' Robb cut in in a hoarse whisper, grabbing her hand tight where it rested across her knee, 'You're eighteen now, Cella, you're old enough to…'

Cella raised an eyebrow at him, making like her mother and putting on a mask of cold amusement to hide her sudden headrush, 'To what?'

'To make your own decisions,' he said, then quickly set to guiding her foot into her shoe, before looking up at her, 'To dance with me?'

Cella smiled. 'You smooth operator, you. Yes, I'll dance, but I'll leave these monsters off,' she said, unfastening her shoe again.

They got up just in time for a slow dance, in which Cella pressed her body so close to his, her head fitting perfectly into the crook of his shoulder, that Robb felt suffocated by his feelings.

'Can we go?' Cella asked, her throat choked. Robb glanced over at their parents as a precaution: Cat and Ned were hovering around her father, who was probably blind drunk, and Cersei had gone home hours ago.

'Do you mean…?' He whispered. It was still hanging between them, a strange energy that had been there for years in fleeting waves but now was firm, though still unspoken.

She took his hand and led him outside into the dark, where she once more pressed her body against his, and, lips on his, murmured, 'Kiss me, Robb.'

So he did.

He tipped his head forward fractionally, teasing her lips, making her work for it, until her hands slid up his chest, one making it all the way to the nape of his neck and fiddling with the sensitive hairs there, and he let himself go, forgetting his embarrassment after lusting over a teenage girl for so long, just thinking how good it felt to finally be kissing her, finally feeling her divine figure against his body, finally letting that gentle laugh of hers expel itself into his mouth.

She pulled back and met his eyes, still laughing.

'I'm having a wonderful night, thank you.'


	7. Chapter 7

**Day Seven: Holiday**

It was hot, so hot that her skin was beaded with sweat, even under the black starred sky.

So she rose from the sweaty sheets, quietly opened the French windows and slipped out onto the beach. The sand was cool, ecstatically cool, and the dark haze of the sea looked even better.

A metre from the breaking waves, she stopped and stripped off her nightie, folding it neatly and placing it on the firmer sand.

The waves were as gloriously cold as she hoped, like seductive caresses against her skin, and she waded slowly in, cherishing each extra inch of submersion.

'I really hope you're naked,' Robb called from behind her.

She laughed aloud and turned to see, in the thin glow from their patio light, Robb's Grecian torso rising above the waves.

'Oh, I am,' she replied, dunking her head under the water and emerging right in front of him, diving straight up to kiss his lips, salt water tantalising his tongue.

Eventually Robb pulled back. 'Come back to bed,' he whispered.

'I have a better idea,' she said, a hand stroking cool water down his chest and touching him exactly where he wanted to be touched, 'Let's stay right here.'


End file.
